


One Tequila, Two Tequila, Three Tequila, Floor

by BellatrixDraven



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: AU, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-12 15:46:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7940215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellatrixDraven/pseuds/BellatrixDraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OTP Prompt- Person A, a regular at the bar, is drinking heavily one night. A rich person, Person B, feels bad and decides to try and drop them off, the bartender (or Person C) giving them directions. When Person B goes outside, dragging Person A, they’re suddenly covered in puke by A.<br/>BONUS: A wakes up to find Person B angrily at their doorstep, demanding equivalent exchange for ruining their suit. Instead, Person A simply states “You’re hot as hell.” Then closes the door.<br/>BONUS: Person B returns every day to get money back from Person A, learning slowly about them each day until they can’t help but forgive A when they learn why they were so drunk at the bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

One of Hawkeye's favorite things about this town is the perpetually open bar, and that no one ever questions why he's there at random hours. Honestly, Rosie's is a gift that never stops giving, and he'll never be thankful enough for its existence. He makes his way over to the bar, picking his favorite seat and waiting.  
"You look worse than normal sir,"  
"I feel worse than normal Radar." Hawkeye replies. He watches Radar try to figure out what to say. Radar's too young to be behind the bar, serving drinks and dealing with all the drunks, especially the one who shows up in a wedding dress every Friday with a cigar in his mouth.   
"The normal sir, or something else?" Radar asks.  
"Let's start with a beer, and progress from there." Hawkeye says, pushing his wallet across toward Radar. "Just keep going until i don't have the money anymore."  
"Sir, if that were the case, I couldn't serve you a drink, you haven't paid in three weeks, and you still owe from the time you accidentally set the jukebox on fire."  
"Frank started it."  
"Frank never drank sir." Radar says simply, before going to get Hawkeye's drink.   
"I see you're here again Hawkeye." It's the quiet voice that only a psychiatrist could have. Slowly, Hawkeye turns to look at Sidney, not sure if he should scowl or smile. Smiling wins, and he opens his arms.   
"Hello Sidney. Are you still writing letters to Freud?"  
"Are you still counting cards to win against everyone?" Sidney returns the hug, a smile tugging at his own lips. "Radar, I'll have whatever Pierce is having."  
"Yes sir."  
"So why are you drinking tonight Hawkeye? It's only Tuesday." Hawkeye pauses. There are a thousand things he could say. That he just wanted a drink. That the surgeries were awful yesterday and he had called in sick, just to drink away the sight of blood. That he wanted to get drunk before doing something stupid, like actually apologizing to Frank. But nothing comes to his lips, and so he shrugs before taking a sip of his beer. A sip turns into a swallow, and then half the beer is gone. He looks up at Sidney with dead eyes, and thinks.  
"I don't quite know."  
"Then I'll wait here until you do." Sidney clinks his glass against Hawkeye's before taking a long, sober swallow.  
-  
"I think it's because of my dad." Hawkeye says. He's somewhere between his fourth martini and second shot of tequila. The room isn't spinning yet, so he's not drunk enough to talk about his thoughts, but he's hardly sober enough to care. He drains another glass, looking at the wall opposite him.   
"You've never drank because of your father before."  
"Shit happens."   
"What is it really Hawkeye?"  
"Not really sure. I need another drink, maybe that'll help me find it." His eyes follow the pattern of lights, and then follow the looped letters on the blackboard, trying to figure out another drink. Something that has enough alcohol to get him snackered, but without the lighter fluiid taste.  
"Sorry, just a moment." Radar says, as he steps around the bar, moving to help Igor to the bathroom. "Just a second sirs,"   
"Take your time Radar," Sidney calls. "Hawkeye, I've got to be going. Call me when you get home, okay? Let me know you got home safe."  
"Okay."  
"I mean it Hawkeye." Sidney says. His tone is a little firmer this time. Hawkeye turns, and fumbles to salute. It's enough to make Sidney roll his eyes and leave. Hawkeye watches him go, in the beginning of a sleepy stupor. However, he's still awake enough to notice a very enticing scented aftershave, and someone wearing a rather nice suit take Sidney's seat.  
"I hope this isn't taken."  
"Not at all. What's your name, and can I buy you a drink?" Hawkeye turns on the charm, and smiles. Somewhere inside him, it feels lighter and he focuses on that.  
"Sorry, I don't drink. Against the Lord's will."   
"A priest or a devout?"  
"Both."  
"Just one drink Father, and I'll let you go." Hawkeye offers. The priest hesitates, hat tipped back and glasses shiny. Then he shrugs, and smiles.  
"All right, just the one. And who do I thank for it?"  
"Hawkeye Pierce, business to meet you and pleasure to have you."


	2. Chapter 2

One drink turns into way too many more, and soon Hawkeye can barely stand. Radar has cut off the alcohol and has been handing him glasses of tea or cola, depending on what is ordered.   
"I do say, I suppose I should see you home." The priest says, pushing aside the sixth glass of coke.  
"Nonsense." Hawkeye says, an easy smile gracing his face. He leans over and puts one hand on his companions thigh, warm and comforting, and a little too handsy.  
"I really do insist."  
"I don't even know your name, I can't just take you home."   
"I'm John, now, you are?"  
"His name is Hawkeye." Radar pipes up. "And he lives in Crabapple Cove apartment complex. It's a fifteen minute walk north of here. If you give me just a minute, I'll walk him out Father, it's not a problem."   
"Oh, I can take care of it just once, he was nice enough to buy me a drink. I could at least get him outside, and you've seen far too much of him." John replies. He polishes his glasses, and moves to help Hawkeye stand. Radar pauses, unsure, before nodding in relief. Hawkeye's a handful when sober, and honestly, Radar has no interest in picking up another pair of questionable ladies underwear from the pillow so he can put Hawkeye to bed.  
"You gotta be careful, he might have you know, things on his bed or couch."  
"Things?"  
"Ladies stuff." Radar turns red and disappears, coming back a moment later to push Hawkeye his wallet, and vanishes once more.  
"I must say Hawkeye, if you have a habit of keeping ladies things, you might be bad company for me. Come along now, we've got a bit of a walk." John wraps his arm around Hawkeye's waist and leads him out of Rosie's bar.


End file.
